


Travellers' Tales - The Beginning

by Soledad



Series: Travellers' Tales [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Gratutious Star Trek references, Tosh is the ideal companion, episode rewrite, the road not taken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in "The Aliens of London", the Ninth Doctor invites Tosh for an adventure or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Travellers' Tales - The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I use some of the original dialogue in a different context, so don’t be surprised. The various Torchwood timelines are more than a little contradictional, so I’ve simply picked the dates that matched my story the best.
> 
> Beta read by the generous badly_knitted.

**THE BEGINNING – THE ALIENS OF LONDON**

**Albion Hospital, London  
March 2005**

Toshiko Sato slipped into her borrowed lab coat, fastened her name tag on the coat’s breast pocket, pulled her long, dark hair back into a tight ponytail and swallowed nervously. Coming to London again hadn’t been easy on her to begin with; facing her worst nightmare even less so. But having to pose as a doctor, just because Owen was too hung-over to even get out of his hotel room was the worst of all things.

She fingered the name tag, trying to look confident and professional. It said _Dr. Sato_ , and she _was_ Dr. Sato. She was a doctor twice over – just not a medical one. She was a computer genius and an engineer, extraordinarily skilled in all things technical… a skill that had almost ruined her life forever, barely two years ago. It would have had her rot in prison till the end of her life, had a mysterious man in an old-fashioned military coat not barrelled in like a force of nature, making her an offer that she could not refuse.

Granted, it still hadn’t made her _free_. Not entirely. But being indentured to Torchwood for five years was still a lot better than being imprisoned for life. At least Jack had enough influence to have her records wiped clean, making it seem as if she’d worked for him all the time. _Including_ the eight months she’d spent in prison.

She shuddered with the memory of those months that still haunted her in her nightmares and tugged on the lab coat with trembling hands, wondering idly if _anyone_ would buy the doctor act. She was wearing the proverbial little black dress under it, with a moderate cleavage, black stockings and high heels – not exactly how a pathologist would dress for work. 

To tell the truth, she’d originally been supposed to meet Dr. Rajesh Singh for brunch; that friendly young Indian scientist from Torchwood London who’d showed definite interest for her during team meetings. Jack had wanted her to accept and learn as much about Torchwood One’s secret project as possible. She hadn’t been comfortable with the thought of spying on a fellow scientist and leading him on, but she’d had no choice. Orders were orders, and in _one_ thing Jack had been right: they _needed_ to know what Headquarters was up to and what all the secrecy was for.

Still, she’d been incredibly relieved when their not-quite-date had been cancelled, due to the alien spaceship crushing into the Big Ben and then going down in the Thames. With their typical “if it’s alien it’s ours”-attitude, Torchwood One called all their scientists back to Headquarters in the hope to get their hands on the wreck and examine it before everyone else. Naturally, UNIT had been mobilized at the same time, and the race for the alien technology had begun.

Headquarters was primarily interested in technology, so when their lead exobiologist had been ordered to 10 Downing Street, someone in the higher ranks had decided that the visiting Torchwood Three doctor (both Owen and Tosh had originally come to participate in a conference at Headquarters) could take care of the alien body supposedly found in the wreck. Unfortunately, coming back to London had had an even worse effect on Owen, still shocked and grieving the loss of his fiancée. On the previous evening, he’d hit the clubs and got so stone drunk that not even the crash of the alien spaceship and the following mass hysteria could raise him from his stupor.

Tosh could understand him, to a certain extent. The loss was still too fresh, and the circumstances had been horrible. So, as she didn’t want him to lose his job after only two weeks, Tosh decided to help out. If needs must be, she _could_ cut open a dead alien. It wasn’t like operating on living, _human_ people, after all, and she’d already seen her fair share of strange creatures.

She just hoped she’d be able to smuggle in her scanner and the laptop going with it – or, as the others liked to call it, “Tosh’s little blue box of knows-things”. Jack would want to have all the data she could collect about the alien, before Headquarters or UNIT would spirit it away, never to be seen again.

_If_ it was a genuine alien at all, of course. Which was still far from certain at the moment. But she’d learn the truth soon enough.

Taking a deep breath, Tosh squared her shoulders, adjusted her oversized shoulder bag and marched into Albion Hospital’s morgue, displaying a confidence she didn’t really feel.

“I’m Doctor Toshiko Sato from Torchwood,” she told the two orderlies present, omitting such minor details as the exact nature of her degree or the actual Torchwood branch she worked for. “I was sent to examine the alien body. Where is it?”

To her relief, the orderlies seemed to buy the act at once. In fact, they seemed a little shocked. Too shocked to even start considering whether she was the genuine item or not. They wordlessly pulled out the gurney with a relatively small body on it, covered with a white sheet, from one of the cabinets, and got out of the way of the expert.

Tosh gave the covered boy an interested look. Well, it most likely wasn’t a Weevil, by the size of it. _Or_ a Hoix on a rampage. _Or_ one of those Blowfish creatures. Quite frankly, it looked like and ordinary, down-to-Earth pig, Tosh thought, as she pulled back the sheet.

Like a pig in a spacesuit, that is. Or a crazed Star Trek fan from a convention, wearing a Tellarite costume. For some strange reason, most old sci-fi shows had aliens that looked like pigs.

Only that it obviously wasn’t a fake. It was clearly alive; or, at least, it _had_ been, before crashing into the Thames with its _spaceship_. Words couldn’t even begin to express how weird _that_ was, even for someone working for Torchwood.

“All right,” Tosh said, trying to sound crisp and professional. “I’ll X-ray this… creature’s head now. Perhaps we can figure out just how intelligent it is… _was_.”

The two orderlies gave him strange looks.

“Wouldn’t you need a shielded room for _that_ , doctor?” one of them asked.

“I would, if I worked for your mundane little hospital,” Tosh replied with as much arrogance as she could muster; which, in her case, wasn’t really so much. She wasn’t that big at arrogance. “But since I work for Torchwood, I’ve got _this_.”

She pulled the Bekaran deep-tissue scanner out of her bag; a small alien device that allowed one to examine a patient’s internal organs without actually opening the body. It was much better than MR or X-ray, plus it could be hooked up to any wireless network.

“I must ask you to leave me alone, though,” she added. “This is confidential technology.”

The orderlies exchanged queer looks but obeyed, after just a moment of hesitation. Tosh hooked up the scanner to her laptop and started a scan, displaying the results on the viewscreen of the laptop. What she found made her increasingly worried. She wished she could consult with Jack about her findings right away; but _that_ would have meant to get Owen into deep trouble. So she simply saved the results, until she could show them Owen, and covered the body again.

Barely had she tucked her equipment away, when there was a knock on the door, and the female orderly put in her head.

“Doctor Sato, General Asquith is here to see the body,” she said.

Tosh nodded. “By all means, let him in. You two can also come back. I’m done with the preliminary scans.”

The general, a big, burly man in full regalia and clearly used to intimidate everyone (especially lowly civilians) was already barrelling in, the orderlies in tow.

“Let’s take a look at it!” he said brusquely.

Trying to hide the effect the intimidation techniques were having on her (and wondering whether she’d ever be comfortable with a soldier – _any_ soldier – in the same room, Tosh uncovered the head of the _space pig_ , as she’d nicknamed the creature. It was as good a name as any.

The general stared at it with his mouth hanging open. “Good God! And that’s _not_ a fake? Like some sort of hoax, or dummy, or…?”

Tosh shook her head. “I’ve X-rayed the skull. It’s… it’s nothing I’ve seen before. No-one could make _this_ up.”

General Asquith nodded his understanding, his manner military-crisp once again. “Government experts are being flown in,” he told her. “Until they arrive, keep this out of sight.”

Tosh nodded and covered the body again, gesturing the two orderlies to put the tray back into a cabinet. The general had already marched out of the morgue when she remembered something. Something Jack had mentioned on the phone. Something about the Prime Minister having vanished and being unreachable. She ran out into the corridor.

“Excuse me, sir!”

General Asquith turned back with an impatient mien. Tosh swallowed hard; it was unlikely that she’d get an answer, but she _had_ to try.

“I know this is a state of emergency and a lot of rumours are flying around,” she began, “but is it true what hey say? About the Prime Minister? That he hasn’t been seen since the beginning of this crisis?”

The general stared at her blankly for a moment. Then he turned around again and left, without giving any answer.

“Right,” Tosh muttered sourly. “That went well.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Returning to the autopsy room, she sent the orderlies away and tried to reach Owen on his mobile phone – without success. Things were getting a little… worrisome, and she needed instructions, so she decided to call the Hub, after all. Loyalty towards a co-worker was one thing, but they were dealing with real aliens here, which meant she could no longer take Owen’s privacy under consideration.

So she called the Hub and got Suzie on the phone, which was slightly better. She could never lie to Jack, he’d realise at once that she was hiding something. Suzie, on the other hand, cared so little for her co-workers that subtle behavioural changes were completely lost on her.

Tosh summarised everything she’d learned and transferred all available data to Mainframe via satellite. Suzie filed away everything without questions. Aliens didn’t interest her… just their technology.

“Jack’s been trying to reach the Prime Minister all day,” she then said. “Any idea what’s going on at 10 Downing Street? Is he truly missing?”

“I haven’t got a clue,” Tosh admitted. “I tried to ask one of the generals, but he just looked at me like a dead fish and didn’t say a thing.”

Suzie snorted. “That’s the military for you. All right, I’ll give Jack the data and tell him to hold back for the time being.”

“Where is he anyway?” Tosh asked.

“How should I know?” Suzie replied. “Weevil-hunting, brooding on some rooftop or shagging a tentacled purple alien – anything is possible when he isn’t in. Speaking of which, where the hell is Owen? I thought _he_ was supposed to do autopsies. That’s why he got the job in the first place, isn’t it?”

“He’s… delayed at the moment,” Tosh said diplomatically.

Suzie snorted again. “You mean drunk like a skunk, don’t you? How long are you gonna cover for him anyway? It isn’t your job to save his, you know.”

“He’ll get his bearings, eventually,” Tosh said. “He just needs a little more time. You’ll see.”

“Dream on,” Suzie commented dryly and hung up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Tosh sighed and sat down to the duty doctor’s desk to type up her detailed report. She’d have loved to get away from here, but she couldn’t. Not as long as the space pig was here. There was the slight possibility that those “government experts”, whoever they might be, would tolerate her presence while dissecting the alien, and in that unlikely case Jack would want the details. So she tried to spend the time of waiting as usefully as possible.

She’d perhaps been working an our or so when a curious sound broke her concentration… a metallic sound, like steel being knocked on with something hard. She rose with a frown and looked around, seeking for the source of that noise. The knocking continued, and now she was sure it came from the other end of the room, from the direction of the cabinets.

What the hell…?

She approached carefully, following the sound of knocking, ready to flee, should anything unexpected happen. Still, she was caught unaware when the door of Cabinet #5 burst open with unexpected vehemence, hitting her on the shoulder, and the pig… alien… whatever shot forth like a torpedo, propelled across the entire room and vanished through an open side door.

The impact knocked her off her feet and threw her against the wall. Her knees gave way, and she slid down to the floor, whimpering in pain and hoping her collar bone wasn’t broken. _That_ would have been… inconvenient. Not to mention painful. And long-lasting.

In the next moment, the entrance door of the autopsy room was torn open, and in marched a troop of armed UNIT soldiers, led by a tall man in a battered leather jacket. They looked around, searching for any possible threats, probably alerted by Tosh’s scream. The man discovered the open cabinet door and searched the room with pale, observant blue eyes.

“Where is the body?” he asked in a tight voice.

Covering in the corner, Tosh was trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t the encounter with the alien; she’d faced Weevils twice her size alone and hadn’t panicked. Besides, the pig was probably more frightened than she. But a group of red-capped UNIT soldiers was enough to render her to a whimpering idiot.

The man in the leather jacket crouched down to her and laid a big, sinewy hand upon her shoulder. It was comfortingly warm.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

He had an interesting face: lean, with short-cropped dark hair, a long nose and somewhat oversized ears. For some reason, his presence made Tosh feel… _safe_. It wasn’t the kind of physical safety she felt when Jack’s big body would shield her from bodily harm on the field… and yet vaguely similar. There was age in those pale blue eyes, age way beyond the man’s physical appearance; and almost infinite knowledge.

She tried to pull herself together, clinging desperately to the shards of her sanity. This was definitely _not_ the time to lose it.

“It’s… it’s alive,” she whispered.

The man gave a brief nod and turned to the soldiers. “Spread out. Tell the other troops it’s a lockdown,” he took Tosh’s hands in his big ones and squeezed them gently; then he threw the last order over his shoulder. “ _Do it_!”

For a moment, the soldiers seemed to hesitate, as if uncertain whether he actually had the authority to give them orders. Then their leader nodded and they did spread out.

Tosh, trying to get her laboured breathing under control, looked up into the man’s concerned face. “I swear, it _was_ dead.”

The man waved dismissively. “Trauma, shock, dehydration; anything could have caused its system to shut down for a while. What did it look like?”

Before Tosh could have answered, however, there was a noise in the adjoining room. The man jumped to his feet and looked around. “It’s still here!”

He waved the UNIT soldier still guarding the entrance closer to protect Tosh – something that definitely _didn’t_ make her feel any better – and carefully approached the open door. Unfortunately, he overlooked a steel garbage bin, knocking it over with a loud _clang_. He threw himself onto all fours with practiced ease, crawled to the door and peeked in.

Even from the corner where she was hiding, Tosh could see the head of the pig peek out from behind some desk or cabinet or whatnot. It grunted, almost as if it would ask something; looked almost cute, to tell the truth.

The man broke into a wide, happy grin. “Why, hello!” he said in a friendly manner.

For some reason, though, the alien pig didn’t find _that_ particularly reassuring. It screamed and bolted for the entrance.

The young UNIT soldier raised his weapon uncertainly as the bizarre… _thing_ came charging right at them. Tosh almost felt sorry for him. For the first time in almost three years, she didn’t see a faceless, merciless enemy under that red cap – just a young man, scared shitless and helplessly out of his depth.

“Don’t shoot!” the man in the leather jacket shouted, and the soldier lowered his weapon, happy to obey someone who _knew_ what had to be done.

The space pig charged for the door, still screaming, with the man in hot pursuit. A moment later, multiple shots could be heard from the corridor, and the screaming stopped abruptly.

“Help me,” Tosh muttered, trying to not flinch when the young soldier grabbed her arm to support her. Damn, but high heels were _really_ impractical on the field! "We need to find out what happened.”

They found another group of UNIT soldiers in the corridor, with the nameless man glaring at them over the body of the space pig accusingly.

“What did you that for?” he demanded. “It was _scared_!” he crouched down next to the pig, touching its twitching snout with the back of his head gently and repeated with infinite sadness. “It was _scared_.”

The soldiers watched dumbfounded as the pig in the space suit grunted one last time and died. The man rose with a heavy sigh.

“Well, what’s done is done. Would you just not be so trigger-happy all the time… Help me to get it back to the autopsy room, so that Doctor…” he trailed off, giving Tosh a questioning look.

“Sato, sir,” Tosh murmured. “Toshiko Sato.”

The man gave her a grim smile. “Pleased to meet you, Doctor Toshiko Sato. Well, what do you think? Should we take a closer look at our alien friend here?”

“General Asquith wanted me to keep it out of sight until the government experts arrive, sir,” Tosh protested.

“Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it?” the man said with a broad, almost manic smile. “I _am_ here, after all!”

“And _you_ would be…” Tosh was more than a little doubtful. The man didn't look like one of those high-ranking scientists from UNIT or Torchwood Headquarters. Not the least.

The man beamed at him. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor… _who_?” Tosh got a somewhat surreal feeling, as if she’d stepped into the twilight zone without forewarning.

“Just the Doctor,” he told her. “Don’t worry. It’s all right. I’ve been affiliated with UNIT for, oh, several decades of your time.”

That peculiar phrasing, as well as the mane that wasn’t really one, hit a chord in Tosh’s memory. She was Torchwood, after all, and she _had_ read the Torchwood founding Charter. Still, it was too unlikely to believe, without further investigation.

For which she didn’t have the time right now. They had more important things to do, and if this Doctor was willing to help her getting access to the alien again, who was she to argue?

“Very well,” she said. “I’m all for proper scientific investigations. By all means, let’s take a look.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“So, what did you use to examine it?” the Doctor asked.

Since they were alone in the autopsy room, Tosh pulled out the Bekaran scanner and showed it him. “This.”

“Nifty,” the Doctor said in approval. “I didn’t know alien technology was so widely used on Earth.”

“It isn’t,” Tosh admitted. “Unless you work for UNIT. _Or_ for Torchwood.”

“Torchwood?” the Doctor frowned. “Never heard about it.”

“Then I shouldn’t say anything else,” Tosh said. “Because I’m quite certain that you will, in the not-too-distant future. _Your_ future, not mine.”

The Doctor gave her a suspicious look. “You know who I am, then?”

“Let’s just say, I’ve got an inkling,” Tosh replied. “You say, you’re the Doctor. I assume it means… it means you’re _the_ Doctor.”

The Doctor grinned at her. “The one and only. How come you’ve heard about me?”

“Torchwood has quite extensive files on you,” Tosh explained. “Well, at least my boss does. And he’s a little lazy when it comes to putting away confidential files.”

“Files on _me_?” the Doctor repeated with a frown. “Where from?”

“Oh, he…” Tosh hesitated. 

Old Torchwood protocols clearly stated that Jack had been tortured by 19th-century Torchwood Three agents, with the specific purpose of gaining information about the Doctor. But if the Doctor hadn’t heard about Torchwood yet, that would mean he and Jack hadn’t even met, either; so she wasn’t supposed to tell the man anything in that direction.

“He’s closely affiliated with UNIT, too,” she finally said.

The Doctor nodded. “All right, that explains it,” he turned his attention back to the dead alien. “And with all your nifty equipment, you still haven’t figured out what this poor creature is?”

There was a certain challenge in his voice, and Tosh wasn’t one to leave a challenge unanswered. She shrugged.

“I guess I just supposed this is what the aliens look like. It isn’t too weird-looking, compared with some I’ve already seen. Why? Are you telling me this is merely a pig? From Earth? Wearing a _space suit_?”

The Doctor shook his head and crossed his arms before his chest. He was almost as broadly built as Jack, yet more on the lean, lanky side, almost flat.

“More like a mermaid,” he replied.

Tosh gave him a sceptical look. “A _mermaid_?” she repeated, her tone clearly signalling what she thought about _that_ answer. Was the man insane?

The Doctor sighed and launched into a longer explanation. “Victorian showmen used to draw in the crowds by taking the head of a cat, gluing it onto a fish and calling it a mermaid,” he elaborated. “Now, someone’s taken a pig, opened up its brain, stuck bits of technology into it, and then they strapped the poor thing into that ship and sent it to crash… it must have been terrified. They’ve taken this animal and turned it into a _joke_!”

There was so much anger and grief in his voice it stunned Tosh. Memories of her imprisonment hit her again with an almost physical force; how she’d been kept in that windowless cell, in complete isolation, like some filthy animal. Like a lab rat of some kind. Day after day, week after week, until time had ceased to exist and her mind slowly begun to fall to pieces.

Jack told her afterwards that she’d spent eight months in that mindless existence. She still hadn’t any memories of the passing of that time. It had been one unchanging, never-ending nightmare.

She couldn’t understand how a man, who felt such obvious remorse about a mistreated animal, could be affiliated with UNIT in any way; with people who did a lot worse to their fellow humans. But she found it wiser not to discuss with the man _that_.

“So, it’s a fake then?” she asked. “A pretend? Like a mermaid? But the technology augmented in its brain, it’s nothing from Earth. It’s alien.”

“So is your scanner,” the Doctor pointed out.

“This technology is far beyond everything I’ve seen in the last two years, and I _have_ seen my fair share of weird stuff,” Tosh replied. “It’s completely new. Does this mean that aliens are faking aliens? But why would they do that?”

She turned to the Doctor – or where the Doctor had been just a moment before. Now he was gone already, the door of the autopsy room swinging closed on his wake.

Tosh ran out into the corridor. “Doctor?!”

But she found the corridor deserted and eerily quiet – save for the strange, wheezing noise coming from beyond the next turn. Running towards the noise, she could barely get a glimpse of something that looked like an old-fashioned, blue police box dematerializing a bit further down.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
With a weary sigh, Tosh returned to the autopsy room, completed her report and sent it directly to Jack’s inbox. Then she tried to call Owen again and finally managed to wake up the completely bombed doctor. However, there was no hope that Owen would be able to get to Albion Hospital, with the streets all tied up in traffic and the military mobilizing to contain the panic. So Tosh simply sent him all the data she’d gathered, carefully omitting any hints of _the_ Doctor. Owen didn’t know anything about that topic yet; and the danger of contaminating the timeline was very real.

“These scans are amazing,” Owen commented over phone. “The way the alien technology is bound with the actual brain tissue is something I can’t even fully comprehend. Could you get some samples for me?”

“Forget it,” Tosh answered sharply; perhaps it was the Doctor’s influence, but the mere idea of opening up that poor thing’s brain made her sick. Besides, it wasn’t _her_ job, was it? “I’m not doing any autopsies; I’m not qualified. If you weren’t too drunk to even get out of your bed before noon, you could have cut this creature in as many pieces as you wanted. But the bottom line is: you _weren’t_ here. And I’ve taken enough risks already to save you sorry arse… _and_ your job!”

“Oh, c’mon, Tosh, don’t make such a fuss about it!” Owen didn’t even have the decency to _sound_ contrite. “As if you’ve never been sloshed in your life!”

“Not when I had an important job to do, I haven’t”, Tosh replied, shaking with anger, and hung up. Of all the ungrateful, self-absorbed arseholes, she just _had_ to work with Owen Harper! Suzie had been right – it wasn’t her job to save Owen from the consequences of his stupidity. Why was she still trying anyway?

She took several deep, calming breaths and tried to decide what to do. Returning to the hotel seemed a hopeless endeavour under the circumstances. Besides, the last person she wanted to spend her time with right now was Owen. So she called the Hub again, to ask for instructions.

This time she found Jack in, and her boss seemed fairly concerned about the news. Again, Tosh carefully omitted all hints concerning the Doctor, not wanting Jack to cross his own timeline. She didn’t quite understand _how_ Jack had managed to work for Torchwood Three for a century and a half and remain unchanged, but she was fairly sure that time travel was involved somehow. Or _would_ be involved, somewhen later in his own personal future. It was better _not_ to think about it.

In any case, she found it better to cover the Doctor’s presence and only mentioned a government expert whose name she never learned. Which wasn’t even a lie.

“So, it seems we know _what_ happened,” she summarized, “but we’ve no idea _why_. Why would aliens fake aliens, just to let their dummy crash into the Thames, with a spaceship big enough that half London would notice? It makes no sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jack admitted thoughtfully. “Unless the whole thing only serves as a decoy – to draw attention _away_ from what’s really going on in the background.”

“You mean…” Tosh felt all blood leave her face and her limbs suddenly grew ice cold. “Could it be the beginning of an alien invasion?”

“Maybe,” Jack said tiredly. “All I know that – according to UNIT – there were anomalous signals from the North Sea three days ago. The government was about to investigate, but then the ship crashed, and all attention was turned to that.”

“So you think it was a diversion,” Tosh said. It wasn’t a question.

“Seems like that, doesn’t it?” Jack said. “What makes me worry is that I’m completely helpless right now. I still can’t reach the Prime Minister, or anyone of importance at UNIT, and I don’t think I could get to London in time anyway.”

“General Asquith called in all government experts,” Tosh reminded him. “Perhaps that’s where the UNIT brass are: at 10 Downing Street. You’d never reach them _there_ , though.”

“Nod bloody likely,” Jack agreed. “Have you heard anything from Headquarters?”

“Nah; they called in everyone of an emergency note, and then sealed off Torchwood Tower and haven’t taken any calls ever since,” Tosh said.

“Typical Yvonne,” Jack commented cynically. “Listen, Tosh, are you safe where you are right now?”

Tosh thought about it for a moment; then she nodded, although Jack couldn’t see that, of course. “I think so, yes,” she said. “The fake alien is dead; the UNIT soldiers saw to it, and they’re nothing if not efficient. The focus of the events seems to have moved on to Downing Street. Do you want me to got here, I still have that psychic paper you gave me, I could fake the right ID to get in.”

“No!” Jack said promptly. “If there’s really an invasion going on, you can’t do anything to stop it. And I don’t want you to get killed. Let UNIT deal with it; it’s their job, and they’re armed and trained to deal with such things.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Tosh asked, relieved that she wouldn’t have to endanger herself even more.

“Stay where you are, until it’s over, one way or another,” Jack said. “Lie low, keep yourself safe. Once we know what we’re dealing with, I’ll see how can I get you – both of you – back unharmed. Try to find out as much about the technology in that pig’s head as you can, with the help of the scanner. Oh, and tell Owen, if I ever find out that he’s drinking on the job again, I’ll Retcon him back to his diapers, aside from firing his sorry arse into the next incarnation.”

With that, he hung up, leaving Tosh wondering if there was _anything_ at all that he didn’t find out sooner or later.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
And so came that Tosh sat out the thwarted Slitheen invasion in the morgue of Albion Hospital, not even realizing how close all life on Earth had come to ceasing forever. She worked on her alien language translation programme, took extensive scans if the brain of the space pig, watched the news on the telly in the head pathologist’s small office… even slept a couple of hours on the sofa of said office, all the time worrying about what was going on and how it would end.

When everything was over, in less than a day’s time, the aliens defeated and 10 Downing Street demolished by a Harpoon missile, Tosh finally managed to meet up with Dr. Singh from Torchwood One. As expected, Headquarters had managed to get some records from the events within 10 Downing Street, someone having hacked into the security cameras of the Prime Minister’s office, and Harriet Jones, the only surviving MP, apparently was shocked enough by the recent events to ensure a close cooperation with the only remaining “alien experts” of Torchwood London.

“They’re apparently called the Slitheen,” Tosh explained to Jack on the phone, after having returned to the hotel. “They have a greenish tint to their skin and are eight feet tall with long forearms that end in huge claws. Jack, I was shown photos: they look like the proverbial bug-eyed monsters from those trashy old sci-fi movies!”

“And nobody has discovered them, despite being on Earth for _months_?” Jack asked doubtfully.

“No, because they’ve disguised themselves as humans,” Tosh replied. “Doctor Singh says they skin their victims and fit into the skin, using compression fields to squeeze themselves into a somewhat smaller space. Only that the exchange of gases that compression entails also builds up within the acquired skin, causing a condition similar to…”

“… similar to farting,” Jack interrupted, howling with laughter.

“You heard about them?” Tosh asked in surprise.

“Sure,” Jack said, regaining his composition in record time, because it really wasn’t a laughing matter. “They’re fairly common in the known galaxy. Only that the _race_ isn’t actually called the Slitheen; that must be one of their powerful clans, although I’ve never heard about _that_ one before.”

“So, what _are_ they then?” Tosh asked.

“Raxacoricofallapatorians,” Jack replied blithely; it sounded like having a bad cough. “Creatures of living calcium that hatch from eggs and are native to the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius. Some of them are said to be instinctive hunters, being trained to hunt and kill from a young age. Their females can even produce poisons within their bodies which they then use against their enemies… usually as an exhalation of poisoned breath.”

“Sounds charming,” Tosh commented, and Jack laughed.

“They have their moments… and these were green, you say? Curious. The ones I met had orange skin. Perhaps they belong to a different family.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve dated any of these monsters!” Tosh exclaimed, half-laughing, half disgusted, while secretly wondering how was it possible that Jack would know just about every alien species that ran across their way.

“Do I seem to you as a man with a death wish?” Jack asked indignantly.

“Sometimes,” Tosh said before thinking, because yes, sometimes it _did_ seem as if her boss would willingly seek out deadly peril.

“Well, I’m certainly not eager to donate my skin as a body suit,” Jack retorted. “Anyway, do we know what they were up to?”

“Apparently, they wanted to instigate World War Three, and then sell the radioactive remains of Earth as fuel for interstellar spacecraft, “Tosh summarised. “At least that’s what UNIT told Headquarters. Whether it’s true or not, that’s another question. All their experts called to 10 Downing Street were killed by the Slitheen, and it’s unknown where the actual information came from. Unless it was Harriet Jones herself.”

“We’ll find out eventually,” Jack replied, sounding unconcerned. Tosh could almost see his shrug. “Bottom line is, the crisis has been averted. We can breathe again. Back to the normal everyday chaos in Cardiff.”

“Do you want us to go back at once?” Tosh asked.

“Tell Owen I expect him back tomorrow,” Jack said. “ _Sober_ and ready for work. You can take the weekend off if you want. You’ve more than deserved it.”

Tosh hesitated for a moment… then she accepted. London wasn’t necessarily the place she’d have chosen for a vacation, even for a short one, but she’d learned early on that with Torchwood, you should take all the days off you’re offered because you can never know when you would get another chance to have a break.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Two hours later, she put a royally pissed Owen on the train to Cardiff and checked out of the hotel, just in case Dr. Singh would want to contact her again. She didn’t want another fake date with the man. She just wanted to be alone for a while, spend some time in sunlight after all those long months in the Hub, underground and cut off from daily life.

She didn’t even look for another hotel just yet. She’d find something, eventually. All those little hotels around Hyde Park always had empty rooms – usually god-awful ones, but that didn’t particularly bother her. She only intended to return there to sleep. But for now, she shouldered her bag, containing her equipment, toiletries and some clothes to change, and went to St. James’s Park. There she spread her raincoat as if it were a blanket, fed the pigeons with vinegar chips – really, those stupid birds would eat just _anything_! – and enjoyed the sunlight upon her face. It had been too long since she had just sat in the sun and enjoyed the warmth.

After a while, however, the prickling of her skin alerted her to the fact that she was being watched. She turned around, ready to fight or flee, whatever might be necessary… but then she spotted the Doctor, leaning against a nearby tree, long arms crossed and grinning at her.

“Toshiko Sato!” he exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself that he’d found her. “You’re not an easy person to find. Nobody at the hospital knew where you might be, and you’ve checked out of the hotel… I thought you’d left London already.”

“It isn’t often that I’d get a weekend off,” Tosh replied absent-mindedly; then she realised the actual message. “You were looking for me? Why?”

“I’ve just sent my travelling companion home for the weekend, to spend some time with her family,” he explained, “so I’m on my own for now. However, I’m _not_ planning to waste my time in London, and I was wondering if you’d like to travel with me for a while.”

“Where would we go?” Tosh asked, just playing with the possibilities, never actually intending to go with him.

“Wherever you want,” he replied promptly. “The choice is entirely yours.”

“Sounds promising,” Tosh said, and she meant it. She hadn’t had a holiday for… for well _before_ her imprisonment. There had always been too much work to do. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to start work on Monday again, early. In _Cardiff_. So, unless you’re hiding a private aeroplane behind those trees…”

“Not an aeroplane,” he interrupted, grinning so widely it must have hurt. “Something much better.” He fished some tool that looked like an oversized thermometer out of his pocket and pointed with it at the thin air between two trees in the left. “Look there; I’ve just disengaged the perception filter.”

Tosh laughed but did as she was told… and in the next moment her chin hit the grassy floor. Where there had been nothing but thin air only a moment before, now an old-fashioned, blue police box was standing, as if it had been there since the 1950s.

“What… how…” she stuttered, her eyes growing as big as saucers. “Is that… is that…”

“My spaceship,” the Doctor said nonchalantly. “It’s called the TARDIS. Which stands for…”

“…for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space,” Tosh interrupted. At the Doctor’s dumbfounded look, she grinned. “Hey, why are you so surprised? I’m a scientist, after all. A _Torchwood_ scientist at that. We deal with weird alien stuff all the time.”

“Ah,” the Doctor said, clearly pleased. “Finally, a professional again. But if you know what a TARDIS is, you must also know what she can do.”

“You mean like travelling both in space _and_ time?” Tosh asked.

The Doctor was grinning like a loon. “Like that, yes, among other things. I promise you, you’ll be back in Cardiff by Monday, no matter how long you’re going to travel with me.”

“I’d better,” Tosh said. “I can’t afford _not_ to appear for work on time. Not for the next three years in any case.”

He looked at her with interest. “Really? And why is that?”

“It’s a long story,” Tosh evaded the direct answer. “Perhaps I’ll tell you one day… but not now.”

The Doctor considered that for a moment, then he nodded.

“All right; whenever you feel ready to talk about it. So, tell me: if you had the chance to go wherever you want – or _whenever_ you want – what would be your choice?”

Tosh hesitated; the offer was so enormous, she could barely think of anything in particular. Then something occurred to her. Something she hadn’t even hoped for, not for the foreseeable future.

“Going back to Japan, to see my mother,” she said quietly. “They only allow me minimal contact, you know. I can write postcards… but that’s all,” she sighed. “I accepted the terms when I went to work for Torchwood, and I won’t actually _talk_ to her or anything. I don’t want to get her in trouble. I just want to _see_ her; to see that she’s all right.”

“I can feel another long story coming up here,” the Doctor said.

“Another long story that should be saved for a later time,” Tosh replied. “Let’s just say that if my boss realized that I was about to see her, _I’d_ be in big trouble.”

“You were close, the two of you?” the Doctor asked gently.

Tosh shook her head. “Not really, no. My mother’s really old-fashioned and tradition-bound… both things that I’m not. The only person I was truly close was _Oba-chan_ – my grandmother – but she died when I was still a child.”

“And yet you’d risk your job – or more, by the sound of it – for your mother?”

Tosh gave the Doctor an exasperated look. “ _Of course_ I would, she’s my _mother_! We might not be _that_ close, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love her. I do! She’s the only family I have left on her side.”

“I see,” he said after a pause. “And where would your mother be right now?”

“At home, in Osaka, but we can’t go there, she’d spot me at once,” Tosh said. “If we could go forth in time just a little, though…”

“Rest assured that we can. How far?”

“Just till April 24,” Tosh smiled ruefully. “That’s when the Heike commemoration ceremony is held at Akama Shrine, in Shimonoseki. My mother goes there to watch the ceremony each year, and I could easily hide in the crowd.”

The Doctor grinned again and offered her a hand. “Well, what are we waiting for? Shimonoseki it is!”

He led her to the police box and opened the door. Tosh stepped in… then halted just on the other side of the threshold, as if rooted. Trying to take in the immense inner dimensions of the TARDIS, the gleaming, bubbled surfaces of deep, warm gold, the domed purple ceiling, the central column with the barely-tamed greenish flux of energy throbbing within it… it was almost too much for the first sight.

“She’s bigger in the inside,” the Doctor commented, somewhat unnecessarily, and Tosh nodded as if in a trance.

“Yeah, I can see _that_ … and she’s beautiful, too. Perhaps the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”

She had tears I her eyes but wasn’t ashamed of them. She was a scientist and an engineer, and the TARDIS was as close to perfection as anything in an imperfect universe could get. She had no way to know, of course, that this particular TARDIS was, in fact, an often-malfunctioning derelict.

The Doctor, touched by her words, cleared his throat, pretending _not_ to see her tears. “Well, then, which day was it again?”

“April twenty-four,” Tosh whispered, still trying to absorb the multitude of impressions. “The day on which, back in eleven-eighty-five, the Battle of Dannoura was lost and Antoku, the child emperor, drowned in the Inland Sea, rather than getting captured by his enemies, the Genji. To this day, every year on the twenty-fourth of April, the descendants of the Heike proceed to the Akama Shrine, which contains the mausoleum of Antoku; there they conduct a ceremony of remembrance for the life and death of the Heike warriors.”

“For more than nine hundred years?” the Doctor sounded impressed. “A very old tradition indeed… for humans. But what has _your_ family to do with it?”

Tosh shrugged. “According to family legend, we descend from the only forty-three surviving Heike; all women, formerly ladies-in-waiting of the Imperial Court. My mother strongly believes in it, which is why she makes the pilgrimage to the Shrine every year.”

“And you?” the Doctor asked.

“I don’t know, and I don’t really care,” Tosh admitted. “I’m not that big on tradition. I prefer to look into the future, now that I actually _have_ one again.”

“Which, I assume, is another part of the long story about which you’re not ready to speak just yet,” the Doctor said.

Tosh nodded. “I’m sorry, but…”

“Oh, no, it’s all right, it’s all right,” the Doctor interrupted hurriedly. “After all, we’ve just met, haven’t we? But I’d really like to know one thing. That boss of yours… the one with the files on me… what’s his name?”

“I don’t think the name would say you anything,” Tosh replied evasively.

“Why not?” the Doctor frowned. “I know a great many UNIT affiliates.”

“Perhaps,” Tosh said. “But you haven’t met _him_ yet.”

“What?” the Doctor’s frown deepened. “But you’ve just told me that he had extensive files on me.”

“ _You_ haven’t met him yet,” Tosh said with emphasis. “It doesn’t mean _he_ hasn’t met _you_ before. Just leave it, will you? You of all people ought to know that time isn’t always linear.”

“So I _will_ meet him, somewhere in the future?” the Doctor asked with interest.

Tosh shook her head. “I’m sorry, Doctor. Please, stop asking. I don’t want to create a temporal paradox.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “I _hate_ temporal mechanics!” he stated with a long-suffering sigh.”

“Tosh laughed. “Yes, that’s what they always say in Star Trek, too,” she looked around, her eyes gleaming. “Now, are we ready to go?”

“Ready and willing,” the Doctor ran around the central console, pushing buttons and pulling handles. “Akama Shrine, April twenty-four, here we come.”

The energy within the central column began to pump in earnest, and with a wheezing sound, the TARDIS dematerialized in St. James’s Park, to take on shape again in Japan.

~The End – for now~


End file.
